#Lucca part 1 Loaded-Dice-Book

[loaded-dice-book-blog]

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“One last time.” He whispered to himself. Clutching onto the sink, his throat burned.

Sobbing uncontrollably was not something he enjoyed. But it happened. Everyday like clockwork. He didn’t even know when it started happening. One day he had come home from school and let it out. And no matter how his parents would rapped at the door, he kept it locked.

Screaming and crying. Unable to look himself in the face. Unable to do much of anything.

This lasted a few days, and slowly turned to weeks, then to months and now six years later - he still cries. His parents don’t try to help anymore. They’d tried everything they knew. They tried reaching out, discipline, therapy, and pills. After the first two years his parents gave up. They had just accepted that this is who their little boy was.

Everyday like clockwork. Screaming and crying turned into wailing and puking. Every other year, a new reaction. Nobody knew how or why it happened. It just did.

Then he met him. This man had helped him once. Having heard his cry and having picked the lock, the man had entered and just kept a hand on the other’s shoulder. The cry would be louder and harsher, but did not last as long. The boy did cry the next day, but not as violently. He had cried and cried and cried. Each time this man would join him in the bathroom and lay a hand on his shoulder. After the first month, the man was able to rub the boy’s back.

The boy would scream as though the man’s hand was aflame, but always yearned for more when the man would take his hand back. The next two months had passed just the same. On the third month the boy had not screamed at all. The man was there as well, holding the boy within his arms. With the boy in the man’s arms, months turned to a year.

And on the anniversary, the boy did not weep. The man was there to comfort him. The man was always there when he needed him most. Except when the man wasn’t there.

Yet, as time went on, the boy needed the man less and less. The less the boy needed the man, the less the man would show up. The man had eventually stopped showing up all together. The boy no longer needed him. The boy was able to eat with his family once again. Until one day he couldn’t.

“One last time.” He whispered to himself as he let go. Clutching to the sink for stability. He lost himself once more. Screaming turned to crying, which found its way to sobbing that followed to wailing which  led to the boy putting so much stress on himself that he’d puked. Vomit in the sink, barely being able to breathe, he wailed. He stomped his foot and cried louder. His throat turned hoarse and there he was.

The man had returned. Face turned down as he wrapped his arms around the boy, resting his head on the boy’s back. Hours had passed til the boy had quieted himself. He turned to the man and welcomed the embrace. The boy rest his head on the man’s clavicle and was able to breathe again. The man took the boy out of the bathroom to somewhere new. The boy could finally breathe.